


Indoor Picnics

by Custardo



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Character Study, Crossdressing, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Custardo/pseuds/Custardo
Summary: Opening his eyes, Vulpes's gaze landed on the shard of mirror that was tied to the beam of his tent. Hesitating only for a moment, before striding toward it, displaying an odd moment of vanity, a desire to see how it hung on his body.
Relationships: Lucius/Antony, Vulpes Inculta/Lucius, Vulpes Inculta/Lucius/Antony
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Indoor Picnics

Vulpes Inculta, the fearless Frumentarius under Caesar's Legion, was organizing his collection of furs; from the softest, that belonged to pups that never took many breaths, to the rough pelt of a Yao Guai, whose fur was the only consolation prize from a troop's failed mission to the Zion Canyon. The man who had gifted him the pelt had then been crucified that same night, an example to the others, what would happen if they were to also fail as that recruit had.

The pelt made him reflect on his former Legate, how he had light-heartedly likened Inculta to that of a cactus flower, a prickly exterior but soft within.

The two had been making camp one night, on the edge of a cave brimming with broc flowers, resting on their way to where? Vulpes could not remember. His mind only retaining the few words uttered by his commander of the time, despite it being so long ago, when he was a naïve recruit, still wide-eyed from witnessing the slaughtering of his tribe.

Absent-mindedly running his hands over the pelts, Vulpes pondered on his life before Caesar and his Legate. Before he knew there was a world outside of the farm in Utah. Before he even became known as the great Vulpes Inculta. The thought of his homeland used to bring immense despair to him when he first came under the Legion, but now the memory of 'family' was overwritten by the Malpais Legate, who had taught him wisdom that surpassed his own father's lessons, his Legate had took him to the edge of the Cove, when he should have been socializing with the other recruits and gave great speeches that changed Inculta's view of the world with each passing night.

Perhaps it was this almost-paternal love that had been the Legate's demise, how his humanity was that of a flaw, a crack in an otherwise impenetrable shield. That crack had been a big enough weakness for Caesar to cast him aflame and throw him to the canyon. To not even allow his memory to survive, simply left to be a ghost, whose well-earned title could not even be uttered, the 'Burned Man' taking over only to be a whisper in the wind.

That day had made Inculta see his Caesar in a different light, a light cast in an orange flame, accompanied by the smell of cooking flesh and muscle in the air, and the sound of hoarse screams. The same voice that made those screams had calmed Vulpes after his first encounter with a NCR veteran ranger, it had promised it would not tell another soul - and that promise was never broken. Taking it to his grave, to the canyon that has now grown sparse barrel cactus flowers, as if nature had known and was casting judgement on their... relationship.

The thoughts made Vulpes cringe, and he halted his stroking of the pelts, feeling rather stupid for being so vulnerable, in the past and now in the present. On his lonesome in the spartan tent, now only his cot and mirror were witness of his deepest secrets. But Vulpes's mind still raced, contemplating on how Caesar would view his bond with the former Legate, if he would encourage it, seeing how much Vulpes had improved under the Legate's wing, or be angered, by the secretive, almost covert nature of their relationship. Friendships had been encouraged by his leader lately, often implying to Vulpes to spend time with his fellow Legionnaires, rather than secluding himself to his tent on an evening - although Inculta did not like to admit such behaviour aloud, he found himself quite fond of Antony, seeing him as a brother, when the camp was quiet the houndmaster would let Inculta care for new pups, petting and even playing with them. Usually when Vulpes had spare time he would see Antony or Lucius, outside of battle Lucius was pleasant to be accompanied by and Antony had found a soft spot in Inculta's heart.

But today was not one of those days, as the movement from shadows passing through the gaps of his tent reminded Vulpes that tonight was one of celebration, even into the late hour - a doctor had been brought to treat Caesar by that strange courier that had been impressing Caesar so greatly.

Sometimes, the time spent with those hounds had given Vulpes the same feeling he felt around Caesar, admiration but also fear, knowing he could be turned on at a moment's notice, and perhaps even love, although it was an unusual type of love. Not the same love that was mentioned in those Old World songs that played in the casinos of the Strip.

His fingers had found themselves weaved into the patterns of the fur once more, causing him to abruptly stand - shocking himself by his immense display of emotion and his inability to control his thoughts. 

Perhaps he was more tired than he thought. Vulpes began undoing the straps of his armor, feeling the chill of the air with each section of skin being revealed - the desert was more often than not, unbearably hot, even with the skirts worn by the Legionnaires. Vulpes was grateful that at least he would have the solace of coolness to combat his agitated mind. He had bothered with lighting a candle, wishing to allocate time to the reading of his books, but hadn't been able to with getting lost in his thoughts. As he bent to blow the flame away, a small pillow case under his cot had caught his eye. 

Vulpes halted his breath, slowly exhaling as he straightened and strode to the casing, he already knew what was inside and it brought further shame upon him.

More foolish actions of his past had decided to come to haunt him tonight, it seemed.

Anger overcame him as he rushed to empty the case onto his cot, shaking it slightly too aggressively in his haste. Out poured a satin and lace gown, thin and rather unremarkable in the grand scheme of things, but an excess of luxury materials that was banned in the Fort's walls - that would bring vast pain and mortification to Caesar if he were to find out. But the rage that was very present a few moments ago, had now evaporated into the night air. Instead being replaced by curiosity. 

Shaking his head, the Frumentarius attempted to dispel the thoughts from his mind, in some sort of childish manner, but it proved to be in vain, the curious feeling still settling into the back of his skull; itching away. Caesar would be disgusted, he should just take the garment to the damned canyon and burn it along with the memories of his Legate... but he could not bring himself too.

His loyalty to Caesar was unbreakable but that did not mean that Vulpes was blind, his Lord was a man too, just as capable of making mistakes as a recruit would, despite his power and experience. When he was a Decanus, Inculta did indeed view his Lord as a perfect leader, physically unable to make an incorrect decision. But he had grown wiser since then, after being promoted to Frumentarius, after that fateful day at the canyon and after witnessing Caesar's headaches, how he grew too tired to even form simple sentences some days, Vulpes felt that he could be allowed to have moments of imperfection also.

Lifting the garment by its straps, blue-grey eyes watched the silk fabric float and sway in the air, much like the strange rays of lights he saw at night at times. A shiver broke through his body, reminding him of the chill, the temperature tonight finalizing his decision. Slipping the garment on over his head, Vulpes closed his eyes. Simply feeling clothing other than bulking, rattling armor was refreshing, and it was much more comfortable than the starched shirt and suit he had to wear to the Strip whilst scouting for intel on the NCR and the bastard courier.

Opening his eyes, Vulpes's gaze landed on the shard of mirror that was tied to the beam of his tent. Hesitating only for a moment, before striding toward it, displaying an odd moment of vanity, a desire to see how it hung on his body. Although the shard displayed cracks and wasn't as clear as it was when it was first manufactured on that day, 200 years ago, Inculta saw past these flaws as he was faced with the image of himself. Stood in a traditional nightwear of a woman: the lace cups hung loose, designed to frame a woman's chest not a mans, he should have felt idiotic, should have felt the shame he felt before, but that wasn't the case anymore. He felt... free.

Suddenly experiencing the desire to spin, Vulpes gave in, feeling the cold air dance around his skin and the garment swaying. He faced his reflection once more, gaze cast down to study his scarred stomach and legs slowly being disguised by smooth satin once more.

  
"Ego non novi vos erant a muliere, Inculta." / "I did not know you were a woman, Inculta."

The sudden voice broke Vulpes' spell, causing him to quickly turn to the source, which then induced the garment to float freely once more. His shame grew deep and dark across his cheeks and chest, whilst his hands hastily pushed the material down, to cover himself.

"What are you doing here, at this time of night, Lucius?" Vulpes regained some of his pride, satisfied with how steady his voice came, despite the uncomfortable nature of the situation.

The sound of the tent flap falling broke was the only reply as the bearded man stepped closer toward his fellow Legionnaire. Two sets of blue orbs found each other, Vulpes recalled a story he read in a pre-war book, a wench of a woman who could turn people into statues with her very own stare. Vulpes, however, had been instructed to burn it by Caesar, who stated that legends should remain legends - perhaps it reminded them both too much of the wise Malpais Legate.

"You look..." Lucius trailed off, with a glint in his eyes as they fell to Vulpes' chest, making the Frumentarius shift his shoulders - attempting to regain some modesty.

"What are you doing here, Lucius?" Inculta never liked having to repeat himself, albeit his choice of clothing, he began to grow annoyed. The question, or perhaps just the nature of his tone, had broken whatever spell Lucius was under, and once again their eyes met.

"Antony and I were wondering if you wished to join us tonight, but I can see you are.... occupied"

Vulpes's flush grew darker and spread even further across his chest with each of the Praetorian's words, he opened his mouth to bark a retort but Lucius spoke once more.

"You look nice, Vulpes" the use of his first name caused the shorter man's brow to raise, an unusual display of emotion from Inculta, caused by the unusual casual tone from Lucius. "It is freeing to be out of the armor once and a while, isn't it?" Lucius continued, looking expectantly at the man stood before him.

"Yes. Yes it is" The honesty of his own reply caused himself shock, but Lucius was right; Vulpes may take pride serving under Caesar, but he also missed time alone, time to live rather than obey.

Lucius stepped back, clearing his throat and began to turn to exit the tent.

"Wait!" Vulpes's voice cut through the air, feeling slightly too loud for the time of night. Adhering to the command, Lucius stopped, his head turned to the side, but eyes looking to the bare floor - refusing to meet Vulpes' slightly wide gaze. "Perhaps, you and Antony could come here?" He continued, internally cringing at the desperate tone of his voice, he attempted to rectify himself: "It is rather cold tonight" giving the pitiful excuse for company. Now that Lucius was here, he didn't want him to leave. He would also quite like to see how Antony would react. Would he also think the Frumentarius looked 'nice'?

Slowly forming a soft smile, not a smirk nor a grin, but rather a pleasant expression - one of trust, Lucius declared, "I will go fetch Antony, he will be pleased to be inside. He was complaining also."

Vulpes allowed himself to smile, imagining the houndmaster rambling and venting to the confused puppies and their mother. 

Lucius left without another word, going as quickly as he came. Alone once more, Vulpes's shoulders released a tight tension he wasn't even aware of holding - turning again to the shard of mirror.

One of the straps had fallen and revealed his pectoral muscle and nipple entirely, Vulpes hurried to pull the strap up, frustrated with himself for not noticing. Whilst scolding himself for even sneaking the gown past the front gates - not that the fresh-faced recruits at the gate would question him if they looked through his pack anyway. Before Vulpes could dwell on the matter any further, he heard the tent flap open once more - making him turn, but slower than last time thankfully, the fabric dancing only lightly with the movement. 

Antony stood in the entrance of the tent, clutching a brahmin-hair blanket and a basket with assorted cups and plates, with Lucius following behind, a warm expression on his face, looking at the back of Antony with fondness? Vulpes was never very talented at emotions, explaining his own or other peoples; not like his Malpais Legate.  
But he knew for sure that the look on Antonio was one of pure joy, seemingly oblivious to Vulpes's attire.

"Wow! It sure is warm in here, it's such a good idea to have a picnic inside! Wait, does it still count as a picnic if it's inside? Oh and look at how nicely you have decorated-" Antonio's rambling continuing as he set up the basket in the middle of the floor, followed by small teacups and saucers. Lucius's back was turned, tying the tent flap secure, a thin shield to that of the harsh world on the other side. Making Vulpes realize he still had not budged from his position at the mirror since Lucius first arrived. Moving from his spot, the Frumentarius slowly sat at one of of the tea cups set out, kneeling against the dirt floor. Any other position felt undignified.

Antony's digging through the seemingly endless basket did eventually cease, as he began pouring 'tea' into the men's respective cups - calling to Lucius as he did so, stating the drink would be growing cold if he took too long.

Accomplishing the tying the straps, the bearded man sat at the remaining cup, crossed legged, smiling as he picked up his small cup and saucer - the miniature scale making his hands seem even larger. Broader. "Thank you, Antony" Sipping from his cup, Lucius continued: "and thank you Vulpes, for allowing us here." the bearded man almost whispered the last few words, but it was still audible to the other men. The softness of his voice caused an uncomfortable feeling deep in the paler man's stomach, which only worsened as the two finally made eye contact since his re-entering of the tent.

"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Vulpes, it is much warmer in here than outside, but oh are you not cold wearing that? Not that I want you to change, it does suit you, yes yes, doesn't it suit him Lucius?" Antony's childish nature and disregard for Vulpes's unusual attire had made the Frumentarius shift on his knees, causing the uncomfortable feeling within him to settle. The emotion he was experiencing was odd, sparking memories of his former Legate teasing him with that comment made all those years ago. Inculta felt vulnerable and exposed, but... relaxed.

Clearing his throat, Lucius spoke, "Yes." then a breath, "Yes it does suit you, Vulpes." Addressing the Frumentarius directly, rather than as a reply to Antony's question, who then interrupted the moment between the two Legionnaires by throwing the heavy blanket around Vulpes, meaning well but startling the pale man. "You can get the blanket since you are being so hospitable!" the hound master explained. Then returning to his teacup, gently sipping from the chipped ceramic and closing his eyes.

Vulpes gaze cast upwards, searching for Lucius's whose eyes were turned down to his own cup, before following Antony's movements and drinking also. His hands were struggling to hold the delicate cup, but his attempts to be elegant had been improving, for Antony's sake, who had scolded the bearded man in the past for his 'improper manners'.

The Frumentarius let out a breath, attempting to force his body to relax, to forget about what tomorrow may hold in battle, but instead to focus on the rough blanket against his shoulders, the gentle clinking of the ceramic and the unspoken understanding between him and Lucius. He felt at peace, and found that he quite liked it.

Maybe indoor picnics and tea parties could become more regular, even on hot nights.

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
